


The Price of Life

by Catglue



Series: Portrait of a Family [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Hypothetical, Kidfic, Post-Promised Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catglue/pseuds/Catglue
Summary: Riza Hawkeye was pregnant. Havoc was trying to let it sink in but no matter which way he turned it over in his head, the pieces weren't fitting together. There was going to be a baby. A baby with deadly brown eyes and Riza's little upturned nose, and -“Wait so who's the father?”





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, I need to request a leave of absence.” 

Everyone in the office looked up, and Havoc's eyes met Breda's from across the room. Captain Hawkeye never took vacations, unless for a special event of some kind, and as far as he knew there was nothing coming up she'd need to leave town for. It seemed like she and the boss had just returned from a month in Xing. Business, they'd claimed, but Havoc had seen the expense reports. General Mustang looked up from a pile of paperwork, pen tapping idly against the wood of his desk. 

“Really, Captain? That's not like you. When?” 

“Not until mid-spring,” she said, naming a point in time at least six months away. Now that was like Hawkeye, always planning in advance. “I'll need to be gone quite a while, however.” 

The men were now busily pretending to work or, in Fuery's case, actually working. Havoc pretended to be going over a report but was actually examining what he could see of Hawkeye's face. She looked kind of green around the gills; if he didn't know better he'd say she was nervous. But nervous wasn't a word one used to describe Riza Hawkeye. She didn't get nervous, she just got snappy and somehow more uptight than usual. She didn't get the scared, vulnerable look in her eyes she had right now. 

“Oh?” The pen had stopped tapping and while Mustang's face and voice remained casual as ever, there was a tension in his shoulders that didn't quite make sense to Havoc. Hawkeye and Mustang always seemed to know what the other was going to say before they said it. But Roy didn't look like he knew this time.“What's the occasion?” 

“Well sir, it would be a maternity leave.” 

Havoc thought he knew what true silence was: training to be a sniper in the academy, or those long quiet hours in the hospital after losing the use of his legs. But he had never known silence like this, so deep and heavy it was like a gravitational void, and any moment now the room would collapse in on itself and take all of them with it. He realized he wasn't breathing; a glance at his coworkers told him they weren't either. No one was breathing and the tension in the space between the Caption and General was about to implode, killing them all instantly. 

The pen hit the floor, and time started again. 

“What?” Mustang said softly, no part of him moving except his mouth. Somewhere to his right Havoc heard Fuery draw in a shuddering breath. Breda was still motionless, though he seemed to be sinking steadily lower into his chair. 

“I apologize for my poor timing sir; I know this summer we were all slated to return to Ishval to check on progress since last summer.” Hawkeye must have nerves of absolute steel, Havoc decided. Her voice never wavered and her chin stayed upright. He always knew she was tough but between facing down enemy soldiers and giving unfortunate news to the general, he'd personally pick the soldiers every time.

Riza Hawkeye was pregnant. Havoc was trying to let it sink in but no matter which way he turned it over in his head, the pieces weren't fitting together. There was going to be a baby. A baby with deadly brown eyes and Riza's little upturned nose, and - 

“Wait so who's the father?” he blurted before he could stop himself. Mustang seemed to be utterly frozen solid anyhow, and Riza barely moved her head towards the sound of Havoc's voice. 

“Do we get to meet him? Are you getting married?” Fuery chimed in, curiosity overriding any self-preservation, and the Captain heaved a long-suffering sigh, as though she'd been hoping to avoid questions along this particular line.

“No,” she said, somewhat stiffly. “No he's not going to be involved, actually.” 

“Are you serious?” Havoc said, beginning to process this whole thing for the first time. “No way, we'll – we'll go talk to him won't we?” this question was aimed at the room at large, and to his surprise Breda and Fuery both nodded. 

“This guy doesn't get to just walk out on you, he has a responsibility,” Breda said firmly. “We know you can handle yourself, of course,” he amended quickly. “But we're here to support you.”

“With force, if necessary,” Havoc reiterated. “Right, General?” Roy was unmoving as stone, staring at his subordinates as though they'd grown three heads. Jean wasn't entirely sure that he was even hearing anything around him. 

“It's not-” Hawkeye began. 

“Wait you do know who the father is, right?” Havoc asked, and then immediately wished he hadn't. The glare from the Captain could have peeled paint off the walls. 

“There's only one person it could possibly be, thank you,” she said tightly. “And he isn't from around here, and it's going to stay that way. I have, of course, let him know and have told him I will happily accept any financial support he feels is appropriate but well,” she took a deep breath, looking straight ahead once more. “It's my decision to keep and raise this child and no one else's. And I refuse to make it anyone else's responsibility. I can and will do this alone.” 

“Of course you can.” They all turned back to the General, who was leaning casually back in his chair, for all the world as though he hadn't spent the last few minutes doing an impression of a goldfish. “Congratulations, Captain. Let me know and I'll help out in any way I can.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and went to sit at her desk. And that, apparently, was that. 

“I know it's early but are you considering names yet?” Mustang asked calmly, shuffling his papers around. 

“Hmm not really seriously yet, but I'm always open to suggestions.” 

“Well I've always liked Michael,” he said, retrieving his pen and tapping it once more on the desk. Riza looked up at this briefly before turning back to her work. “ Or Ivan is a good, strong name. Nicholas, or Evan are good too, what do you think?” 

“Not bad,” she said quietly. “I've been looking at more uncommon names, like Yoric, or maybe Everett or Sergei. But those are all boys names and it may be a girl. I think I'll know once I meet him or her.” 

“Yes,” the General said softly, looking down at his work so they couldn't see his face. “I think you will.” 

-x-

By spring the Lieutenant had become largely, indisputably pregnant. Jean logically knew it hadn't happened all at once, but it seemed like she was in the “possibly just had a big lunch” phase for a long time and then suddenly it ceased to be a question. Rumors had flown for a month or so but now the entirety of Central Command knew two things for certain: Captain Riza Hawkeye was pregnant, and no one, not even her superior officer, knew who the father was. With these two facts firmly in place the rumor mill seemed to quiet down, at least for the present. 

“Damn,” Hawkeye muttered, looking at the pen she'd dropped on the ground. Havoc looked up, and scrambled from his chair to retrieve it for her. “Thanks,” she said. “Bending down has been getting harder and harder these days.” 

“I bet; look at you,” he said, holding her chair out for her. “Uh, no offense meant, Lieutenant, you're glowing, really.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, leaning back and stretching slightly. “I hear so much about this being a magical experience but I'll be glad when it's over; I don't quite feel like myself in this state.” He knew what she meant; a slightly ungainly, immobile Hawkeye was odd to say the least. She winced slightly for a moment and he looked at her curiously. 

“What was that?” 

“What was what?” She replied, picking up her pen and pulling a file towards herself. 

“You winced, you're in pain,” he supplied, leaning to try and get a good look at her face. 

“I'm fine. Go back to work, Lieutenant.” 

While Havoc had never experienced it firsthand, he'd determined that pregnancy involved various aches and pains. Hawkeye was still a couple of months out from what Jean privately thought of as The Big Event, so there were any number of reasons she might be uncomfortable, he reasoned, most of which were none of his business. 

“Ok, if you're sure I can't get you a tea or anything?” While Riza refused many offers of help she rarely turned down a cup of tea made by someone else. She looked up at him and just as quickly looked away, hiding another slight wince. 

“Tea would be lovely,” she ground out, and Havoc sighed. 

“Look I know I don't get to tell you what to do,”

“I'm glad we cleared that up,” she retorted, hands gripping the side of her desk. 

“I'm your subordinate but I like to think we're, you know, friendly,” he continued breezily. “And so not as your coworker, as your friend, can I pretty please call Lieutenant Catalina to come take you to the doctor?” 

“No you can't,” Hawkeye said, sitting back and looking more relaxed, if still pale. “She's out of town. The Fuhrer left for East City and took Rebecca with him. She didn't want to leave town but I told her it would be fine, I'm not due for another six weeks. And I'm not, so whatever this is, well, it's going to pass.” Havoc felt a pang of sadness suddenly; Hawkeye didn't have a family, he knew that, and she didn't have many close friends either. As far as he knew, the team and Rebecca were pretty much it. This was something he'd always accepted without question; she was a private person who didn't need a big community. Not his thing exactly but he respected it. But maybe this meant that the very few people she allowed into her life needed to step up right about now. He leaned down and she looked up curiously. 

“Hawkeye, lemme take you to the doctor. I have tons of nieces and nephews okay, I'm not squeamish like the other guys are. Not that you have to tell me any details if you don't want to!” he added, seeing her sideways glance. Private person indeed. 

“I don't want to worry anyone,” she said carefully. Havoc followed her gaze to the front of the room where a head of tousled black hair was bent over a stack of paperwork and almost snorted. Like hell, he thought.

“Nah, come on, there's no reason to,” he said instead. “Two coworkers can step out of the office for an hour to go to the shooting range, right?” 

“Right,” she said finally, accepting the hand he offered and getting to her feet. 

To Jean's immense lack of surprise, she was pronounced completely fine apart from being overworked for someone this far along in her pregnancy, and ordered on bed rest. Havoc drove her home after, and then had to face the unexpected trial of returning to the office two hours later without the Captain. It was possible that he hadn't exactly thought this through, he considered as he stood at attention before a very irate Flame Alchemist. 

“She's where?” Roy was speaking calmly and carefully which meant he was undeniably, absolutely furious. Havoc tried to stand his ground but he wondered if the General could hear his knees shaking. 

“At home sir, resting comfortably.”

“And why was I not informed about the Captain's illness?” 

“It was sudden, sir, we left right from the shooting range.” A white lie, but hey, Hawkeye wasn't here to face the music with him so whatever got him less heat, so to speak. “But the doctor said she's fine, she just needs to stay off her feet.” At this Mustang turned and muttered something that sounded quite a bit like 'I told her' but the office was suddenly busy with shuffling papers and no one afterwards could deny or confirm the statement, had they been asked. 

“Well... thank you, then, Havoc. For looking after my Captain.” 

“No problem, boss,” Jean said, sliding into his seat with a sigh of relief. “You know – Rebecca's out of town with the Fuhrer right now. So Hawkeye might need someone to, I dunno, bring her groceries or let Hayate out. I didn't get a chance earlier.” Roy's back was to him, so Havoc didn't see his his face.

“Noted.” 

Nothing more was said about Riza's leaving, but it didn't go unnoticed that the General had a long phone conversation with his old friend Elizabeth that afternoon. It seemed that her cat was expecting kittens, and if he wouldn't mind, she could use a few things from the store if he felt like dropping by later. 

-x-

It was a warm day in June when Havoc met Breda and Fuery outside of the central hospital, jogging slightly, arms full of flowers. There had been a line at the shop, and then it had taken forever to get a cab here. It wasn't like he was going to miss visiting hours, but the excitement of finally meeting this little person who had been growing inside of Hawkeye for the better part of the last year had been gnawing away at him all day. He'd gotten a call from Rebecca in the middle of the night that was mostly just yelling but he'd caught the gist: it was time to meet their newest team member. 

“What the hell took you so long? We almost went in without you but we didn't want to show up empty handed,” Breda complained, eyeing the enormous bouquet they'd all pitched in for. 

“I hope the baby doesn't have hay fever,” Fuery commented. “Can babies have hay fever? Oh man I don't know if I've ever met a baby before.” 

“They're boring conversationalists, you haven't missed much,” Breda deadpanned as Havoc rolled his eyes and checked the time. 

“Come on, let's go,” They walked through the entrance and to the room the receptionist directed them to. Even without the room number Havoc would know which door it was by the sight of an exhausted-looking Rebecca Catalina dozing in a chair right outside. She jolted awake as they approached, and gave a small smile that was quickly eclipsed by a massive yawn.

“About time,” she said, stretching in the chair. “Mustang's still in the room, go tell him it's your turn.” 

“Will do. Sleep deprivation looks good on you, by the way.” Havoc pulled a white rose from the flower arrangement and handed it to her with a flourish. She rolled her eyes, but took it, and reached over to knock on the door. It was a few moments before Riza's voice announced that they could enter, and after looking around at each other with wide eyes, it was finally Breda who pulled the door open. 

Riza was propped up in bed, looking tired but radiant, her shoulder-length hair down and freshly combed. Roy was sitting in a chair next to the bed, and in Riza's lap was someone Havoc did not yet know. 

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Havoc said, with a salute, for lack of anything else to do. The other men followed suit, after a beat, and Mustang rolled his eyes while Hawkeye laughed. 

“Thank you, the flowers are beautiful. You can just set them on the counter and I'll see if Rebecca can find a vase later. I keep telling her to go home and go to sleep but she refuses.”

“I'm glad you haven't been here by yourself,” Fuery said, inching closer to peek at the bundle of blankets she was holding. 

“You know it's not to late for us to talk to the guy who got you into this,” Havoc offered as the other men approached the bed. “I don't care if he lives in another country, say the word and we can drag him right back here.”

“That won't be necessary, Havoc, I'm being very well looked after,” she said, and all of them avoided looking in the General's direction. Judging by the amount of stubble he was sporting, Havoc hadn't been the only one to get a late night phone call. “Anyway, do you want to hold her?” 

Havoc had held babies before on several occasions; sometimes it seemed as though his sisters would never stop popping kids out, and so while the other two hemmed and hawed he walked over and put out his arms and was rewarded with an armful of fresh baby, bundled up equal parts linen to child. 

“Her?” he said, adjusting his grip so he could pull the blankets away and get a good look at her face. 

“Mae,” Hawkeye supplied. “I told you I would know the name when I met her.” 

“That's a cute name,” he said, turning it over in his head. “Mae Hawkeye.” He finally got enough of the blankets out of the way and was rewarded by a sight he'd seen many times before, in different forms. Babies, in Havoc's opinion, never really got cute until they were a couple months old. Let them put on some weight, get a little more interactive, and he was all about babies. Newborns, however, always looked like angry wizened little barbarians, demanding and shrill. This one, in fact, looked a little bit like Fuhrer Grumman. It also looked a little bit like someone else he knew, he thought vaguely. The dusting of dark hair, and the chubby cheeks. She looked like someone he knew very well, and when he looked back up at the faces of his superior officers, tired and glowing, the gears clicked into place. 

Ah, he thought. This could get messy. 

-x-

“Hey, Catalina!” 

Rebecca looked up from cleaning her gun, one ankle crossed over her knee, tendrils of curly brown hair escaping from her usually tight ponytail. She cocked an eyebrow and went back to what she was doing. 

“Havoc,” she said mildly. “Can I help you with something?” 

He stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets, wondering how she managed to visit the shooting range when it was still so hot outside. Even though summer was over the weather this last week had been unbearable. 

“Settle a bet,” he said at last. 

“Depends, a bet with who?” 

“Answer a question, then.” 

“Maybe.” This was all he was going to get, he knew. 

“What all do you know about Mae's father?” she looked up; this clearly hadn't been what she was expecting, and she told him as much. 

“I thought you were here to ask me out again, or something,” she said, standing up and stretching, which was admittedly distracting, and he wondered if she wasn't doing it on purpose. He shrugged. 

“Hey, a guy can multitask. Do you know anything about her father?”

“Well what is there to know?” she said, turning away from the shooting range. “I know he sends Riza money every month – a lot of money, actually – so he's all right in my book. He's just someone she met in Xing last summer when she and Mustang were there on business. I don't know his name or anything, and she hardly ever talks about him. Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest and he decided that they needed to play poker together sometime, if all her tells were going to be this obvious. 

“And you think that's the truth?” at this Rebecca whirled on him and he suddenly found himself being jabbed in the ribs by her index finger. 

“Look, Havoc, if my best friend tells me something is true, I don't question or interrogate her because that isn't what best friends do. I'm here to support Riza, and I trust her to let me know what form that takes, okay? Maybe if you care about her as much as you say you do you should try doing the same thing. I don't care if Mae's dad is a prince of Xing or an Amestrian dictionary salesman, she's my goddaughter and I'm going to protect her with everything I've got, understand?” Havoc held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Understood. Hey, Riza's my friend too, okay? And Mae has really grown on me.” It was true; at almost a year and a half she would babble away to anyone who would listen and seeing her toddle around the office was one of Havoc's favorite sights. He might not say as much but he wanted to protect her too. But as she grew up he found that was getting to be more of a complex operation than simply watching her when Hawkeye left the room. “It's just that she's starting to get older, you know, and look like a person and all. And maybe the person she looks like the most isn't... well, isn't Hawkeye.” 

Rebecca froze, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. 

“You've heard the rumors too, huh?” he asked, and she nodded, turning away to look towards the gun range, and he let her. “Look I'm just saying that maybe we do know the father. Maybe he's a friend of the Elrics or something; hell, Alphose's fiancee is from Xing, and her name is almost the same as Hawkeye's kid's. It wouldn't be too hard to start some rumors of our own.” she said nothing still, but the back of her neck was turning red. He lowered his voice. “I want to protect them too – all three of them.” She turned back around and he thought he caught a glimmer in her eyes, before she blinked and it disappeared. 

“Yeah, all right,” she said. 

“To my plan or to dinner?” he joked, once again praying he wasn't about to get a rifle butt to the throat. She was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so. 

“Both,” she said finally. “Why don't you pick me up at eight, and we can discuss it.” 

-x-

Years of making himself unconditionally available to any woman who requested his attention propelled Havoc out of bed when he got Rebecca's phone call at nearly midnight – in bed before midnight, when did he get so old?- and it was only when he was halfway to his destination did it occur to him that she had given him Hawkeye's address. He knocked hesitantly on the door and after a few moments it was thrown open by the Lieutenant, hair and eyes wild, and she practically dragged him inside by the collar of his coat. 

“Oh thank God, Mae's been sick all day with an ear infection and it's like I'm taking care of three toddlers, I swear.” Havoc held his hands up. 

“Hey, wait, I'm not a doctor, I don't-” she whacked him lightly with a parenting magazine and he fell silent. 

“We've been to the doctor, idiot!” she hissed. “All four of us have been to the doctor, and she has medicine, she's just uncomfortable, and she won't stop crying, and Riza won't stop crying, and I just want her to go to bed and let me rock her damn kid but she won't while the General is here-”

“The General is here?” Havoc said, and now that he had woken up completely, he could tell that amidst Mae's wailing he could in fact hear a male and female voice. He made a mental note to tell them that most common negotiation tactics didn't work on a crying toddler; he'd personally learned this the hard way. 

“Why do you think I called you?” Rebecca asked, exasperated. “Get him out of here, I don't care if you take him to his house, or your house, or my house at this point, just make him leave! He's been hanging around all day and Riza isn't exactly the only military in this complex you know,” she lowered her voice. “The baby is fine, I just need you to get General Sparky out of here before anyone sees that his stupid car has been parked here for fourteen hours.” 

“Yeah okay,” he said, shrugging, and the look of relief on her face was worth any amount of lost sleep. 

“Okay?” 

“I can manage the boss, no problem,” he said with more confidence than he felt, and followed the noise into what used to be Riza's guest bedroom. 

If everyone hadn't been so clearly at the end of their tether it would have been funny, seeing his two superior officers sitting on the floor by the crib, pleading with a toddler, Riza in tears and Roy looking close to them. He cleared his throat loudly and they looked over in surprise. 

“I'm here to collect the boss,” he said by way of greeting, striding across the room to pull the man in question to his feet by his elbow. “We had plans, remember? I'm used to getting stood up but not by you; come on, I think Hawkeye can handle her own baby.” Roy opened his mouth, closed it again, and allowed himself to be led from the room. 

“When did we make plans?” he said quietly as Havoc tossed his coat at him. 

“Last Wednesday, remember? You'd just finished all your paperwork and written your weekly greeting card to Fullmetal. Let's go; we can take your car.” He opened the front door and practically shoved the General out. It was only because of Roy's shock that he was getting away with this so far but he'd better not push it. 

“Wait, Jean!” 

He turned around to find Rebecca standing very close. She grabbed him once more by his lapels, albeit more gently this time, and pulled him down so she could kiss him briefly, before releasing him and handing him the General's keys. 

“Thank you, for answering your phone,” she said, with a quick grin and shut the door quickly behind him. If Roy said anything to him on their way out to the car, Havoc was sure he didn't hear it. He was too busy thinking that there was nothing he wouldn't do, day or night, for that smile. 

It was apparent neither of them had been to the bar in quite a while by the greeting they got from the bartender. Havoc knew that he, for one, had little desire to go out as often lately. Sure he got drinks with the team whenever Breda suggested it, but a handful of dates with First Lieutenant Catalina had cured him of any and all impulses to go out looking to meet women. This was fine in his case; no one cared what a Lieutenant got up to. But the fact that Mustang hadn't been seen in his local haunts for months was considerably more conspicuous. 

“We really should go out more, chief,” he said nonchalantly, sipping his beer as the General stared into his glass of whiskey. “You know that isn't going to drink itself.” 

“Havoc, there's something-” 

“Nahhh there isn't.”

“What?”

“I think you're about to tell me something I already know and don't need confirmed,” Jean said calmly. “If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not have to testify against you at the inevitable court-martial.” This got Roy's attention. 

“The what?” 

“Like I said, we should go out more. You haven't been acting like yourself lately. People might talk,” he said with a shrug as he picked up his beer again. Roy looked at his whiskey, picked it up, and took a generous swig. 

“Thanks Havoc,” he said. “I mean it, for everything.”

“We all do whatever we can to help you reach your goals. We're your team for a reason. Hawkeye too, ah, which you know already.” There was hard evidence that Hawkeye and the boss were more than just General and adjutant, but after years of witnessing their formal interactions, Jean was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that they had relaxed enough for, well, for Mae to happen. Roy gave a hollow laugh into his drink. 

“If you think any of this was my idea, I have a bridge to sell you.” 

“I never said it was but I bet it's smarter than anything you came up with.” 

“Since my first brilliant idea was 'Flee to Xing' I think you're right.” 

“Seems a little dramatic, yeah.”

Havoc was able to get two more rounds into Mustang before driving him home, promising him that he would return with his car before work tomorrow. He made himself sit in the car, waiting until the other man had made his way inside before he drove away, clutching the steering wheel pensively. It must be a special kind of hell, he thought, watching the woman you loved struggle through bringing up your daughter alone. He made a mental note to pick up coffee before he returned the next morning to drive the General to work. A cup of coffee was hardly a cup of raising-your-own-kid, but it was the best Jean could do for now.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was late spring, but Central was beginning to get to be the kind of pervasive sticky-hot that Jean usually associated with late summer. The days were long but the nights were balmy. Rebecca had taken the first train out of Central to go visit family in the west (an escapade he'd narrowly avoided but only because he genuinely had a lot of work to get through) and that left him alone for the weekend. He'd thought about trying to get the guys together and hit the town like they hadn't done in -geez, way too long- but it had been a long week, there was a great Farmer's Market down K street, and the town could wait.

He was standing in one of the stalls debating the virtues of peaches over nectarines and trying to remember if Becca liked either when he turned to see a familiar head of blonde hair poring over the apricots.

“Hawkeye?” he said, and she turned, grinning when she saw who it was.

“I didn't know you liked the Farmer's Market,” she said, sidling over, apricots forgotten.“I'm here almost every week.” She looked like it too; dressed in a casual long skirt and button up shirt, she had brought her own canvas bags, two of which were already full of produce.

“Friday's usually date night, but Rebecca's out of town,” he explained. “Where's Mae?”

“The General's being kind enough to watch her for me,” she said casually, picking up a peach, turning it over, and putting it back down. Havoc was sure it was a terrible hardship for him too, spending an evening goofing around with Mae and the elderly Hayate. By the sound of it though, this was a regular part of their weekly routine.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” he asked impulsively, as they walked down the street. The sun was still out but starting to sink deeply towards the horizon, and lights were already going on at the stalls. Somewhere there were street musicians, filling the air with a kind of light, joyous music. She shrugged, rolling down the sleeves of her shirt as she walked.

“Nothing in particular, I've got a few more hours before I'll be expected home.”

“Well then madam,” he said with the flourish of a hat he didn't actually have, “I don't suppose you'd be willing to grab dinner with your humble subordinate?”

“That's bold of you, asking your fiance's best friend on a date,” she said it almost like a challenge, mouth barely quirking upward. He grinned: he knew her well enough by now to know that Hawkeye's faint mouth tic was another man's full blown chuckle.

“Well I'm a bold guy,” he replied, offering her his arm.

They walked around for a while, chatting, until they found themselves staring at the pub the all used to frequent, back when they frequented pubs. Hawkeye nudged Jean's shoulder with hers and gave him a grin when he looked over at her.

“For old times sake,” she said when he raised his eyebrows.

“Well okay.” Who was he to argue with a mom taking a well earned night off? They entered the pub shoulder to shoulder and the bartender took a second glance before calling out:

“I'll be damned – Jean Havoc!”

Havoc felt himself blush and ducked his head a little as he approached the bar. It had been too long since he and the guys had come here after work. Not that long in the grand scheme of things, but long compared to the four-times-a-week habit he and Breda used to have. Now he'd been saving for a wedding and couldn't afford that kind of regular expenditure. But the wedding was paid for and also it was Hawkeye, so he knew he was in for a fairly tame evening.

“Felix, how's it going,” he replied. Riza surprised him for the second time – well third if you counted her appearance in the farmer's market – by sliding onto a barstool and ordering for them both. As with most administrative work in her life, she got it exactly right and Jean found a beer sitting in front of him in short order, while she had gotten herself a whiskey. He wondered sardonically who she'd picked that up from.

“Funny, I remember you being a red wine kind of gal,” he told her. She shrugged.

“Tastes change. Are you getting nervous about the wedding?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject. “It's what, six weeks away now?”

“Five weeks tomorrow,” he barked automatically. He wouldn't know off the top of his head normally but Becca had a giant countdown poster she'd made taped up in their living room and he had been left with strict instructions to cross off the days accordingly in her absence. Riza let out a low whistle and he noticed her glass was somehow empty already. “And uh, a little nervous, mostly because it's a lot of people.” she nodded.

“Rebecca has a big family. I met them once – all of them, I mean. She brought me home for the winter solstice my last year in the academy, before I left for Ishval.” Her gaze grew distant, but only for a moment before she locked eyes with Felix and he nodded and poured her another. “They're all like Rebecca; loud and friendly. You'll like them.”

“I don't know if it's me liking them that matters,” he muttered. There was a leaflet on the bar advertising that they did a meat pie special on Fridays, a fact he wasted no time making known to Riza. Their orders placed, they sat in a friendly silence for a time. It was early and the bar was just beginning to fill with the contented buzzing of patrons, the setting sun casting long shadows throughout the room. They'd had a lot of good nights in this bar, he recalled: Fuery's 21st birthday, a post Promised Day celebration that had almost landed Breda in the hospital, a nondescript night years past where he had been so sure the Colonel and Lieutenant would leave together but then at the last minute she had called Rebecca.

“Do you think you'll ever get married?” he asked her, as he finished off his second beer. He would never normally have asked otherwise, he told himself. Particularly since he thought he knew the answer already. She froze for a moment before shaking it off.

“I don't think so,” was all she said, staring at the bottom of her glass.

“Well you never know,” he said, immediately feeling terrible for asking the question in the first place. “Maybe someday-”

“No,” she said flatly, gesturing to Felix, who immediately bustled over. “I don't think so.”

It was after her self made curfew when Havoc found himself knocking on the Captain's door, a giggling Hawkeye next to him still looking in her purse for her keys. The door opened almost at once and Jean found himself staring at a bleary-eyed General Mustang, who had most likely been dozing on the couch if the amount of blankets and books were anything to go by.

“I – what happened?” he asked as Riza brushed by him, dropping her purse on the couch and kicking her shoes off as she made her way down the hall. He turned to watch her, eyes narrowed.

“If she wakes Mae up I _swear_ -”

“We ran into each other in town and had dinner,” Havoc admitted, shrugging. “And ah, a few drinks. More than a few for some of us. She drinks whiskey now, apparently.”

“Yeah,” Roy said tiredly, not bothering to make it sound like he didn't know that already. “I guess I'd better go too then.”

“Uh, you should probably continue your babysitting duties,” Havoc recommended, noting that Riza had emerged in a pair of pajamas and taken up residence on the couch, pulling one of the books off the coffee table and turning pages aimlessly. “I think she could use a cup of tea and maybe some aspirin. And maybe a bedtime story” Roy turned around and Jean caught the barest hint of a fond smile before the General huffed and rolled his eyes.

“She was supposed to be back by ten. I'm a very busy man.”

“That's the brakes,” Havoc replied, showing Hawkeye's bags of vegetables into Roy's arms before slipping away. Something oddly like guilt gnawed at him, seeing the way Mustang tenderly regarded his Captain. Riza Hawkeye would get married in an instant, he knew, if only it weren't completely illegal.

-x-

“I'm just saying, if you don't have a bachelor party I'm going to be forced to bring the strippers to the wedding, and I don't think Bex would like that,” Breda was saying reasonably as they walked back to the office after their lunch break.

“Uncle Havoc, Uncle Breda!”

Jean reflexively bent down to seize the kid running at him as fast as her legs could carry her, and picked her up to swing her around. Mae laughed, clinging to his jacket as he settled her on his hip.

“Hey kiddo!” he said. “Are you here to help us work?”

“Yes,” she retorted, as he passed her off to Breda. “Sir said I can be a Major.”

A few different names had been tried out for Roy while Mae was still learning to talk. Mr. Mustang had been a possibility, and was Riza's preference, but Roy balked at that. Kain, sweet summer child he was, had suggested that they _all_ be called Uncle but Breda, after a sidelong glance at Havoc, suggested that was ignoring Mustang's leadership role in their squad. Hawkeye's second choice was 'General', which was what they all decided sounded appropriate. Mae was nothing if not an observant child, however and picked the name she heard him called the most.

“A Major, huh?” Breda replied, looking back at the General, who quickly turned back to his paperwork. “That means technically you outrank me and your Uncle Havoc.”

“Well she couldn't say Lieutenant, what was I supposed to do?” Mustang asked with a shrug.

“Lu-tent,” Mae supplied helpfully. Havoc noted Mustang seemed to be wearing a piece of paper with a clumsily drawn heart pinned to the front of his uniform. The General had outed himself as a canny game-player on The Promised Day, but it was a well-known secret that he was a complete pushover for a certain Hawkeye. No one dared speak about his relationship to the other one, of course, for fear of invoking the wrath of Havoc, Breda, or Rebecca. She could be truly terrifying at times, Havoc thought fondly.

“Where's Hawkeye?” Havoc wanted to know. The Captain sometimes brought Mae up to the office from the military daycare during their lunch hour, but never longer than that. Mustang made it clear he didn't mind, but Riza said none of the other officers got to spend time with their children at work, so she wouldn't either.

“Taking a long lunch; she had an errand to run. I'm under strict orders to take Mae back to the daycare when our lunch hour is over.” Jean checked his watch as Fuery walked in and was treated to the same running tackle as the other men.

“Ow, hey, when did you get so big?”

“And our lunch hour today ends at...” Breda began, checking his watch for show.

“The Captain should be back around one-thirty so probably twenty-five after,” Mustang admitted. “But without my adjutant here I need someone to watch my back, don't I?” This was aimed at Mae, who giggled and wandered back over to the big desk, where Roy had placed a stack of books on a chair so she could reach.

They all settled in and got back to their work; even Mae busily colored while chatting to the General and occasionally reminding him to do his work. For all that she still looked startlingly, damningly like her father's side of the family, she very much took after Riza in terms of temperament. She was a child of course, and not a battle-hardened soldier, but she was more reserved than any of Havoc's nieces or nephews, and occasionally reports from the child care workers would complain of her being slightly bossy towards the other children.

The door flew open with a bang and Havoc looked up to see one of the last people he had ever expected to walk through the doors of Mustang's office.

“Hey Bastard Mustang, bet you didn't think I'd be gracing the halls of East City anytime soon,” crowed Edward Elric: taller, older, but with no more tact than he'd possessed at sixteen. Jean did the math quickly and figured that Ed couldn't be much older that twenty-five, if at all. Edward scanned the office before realizing that the person at Mustang's side wasn't who he was expecting. “Hey when did you replace the Lieutenant?” he asked, walking to the front of the room and eyeing Mae curiously. Mustang shrugged casually but Havoc could see the tension in his jaw.

“Well you know, things have quieted down, so I thought I'd downgrade my security detail. She lets me pay her in crayons and the Captain preferred actual money. It was an easy decision.”

“Yeah I'm sure,” Ed replied, kneeling so he was on Mae's level, and Havoc remembered suddenly that Ed was a married man with three kids of his own. “Hi kiddo, what's your name?”

“Mae Hawkeye,” she said quietly, and Ed glanced sharply up at the General, before looking back at the little girl.

“That's a pretty name. My name's Edward Elric. Do you know how to give a high-five, Mae?” She did, as it happened, and with a nod from Roy demonstrated her budding hand-eye coordination.

“ _EDWARD ELRIC!”_ The door burst open once more and what seemed like a horde of blondes entered the room. It took only a moment to recognize Winry Rockbell – Winry Elric, Havoc corrected himself. He hadn't actually seen her since the wedding. And he definitely hadn't seen the two hellions who took it among themselves to immediately lay waste to the office. He could guess at who they were from the letters he'd gotten over the years – the older one was Sam, and Trisha was a little younger than Mae. The baby in Winry's arms had to be Nina.

“Miss Rockbell, it's good to see-” Fuery began and found himself holding the baby in short order as Winry approached her husband, who seemed to be trying to hide behind Mae to Roy's obvious disdain.

“You know our rules," Winry chided tiredly, walking up to the desk. "If one of us is going to run ahead we have to take at least _one_ child with us.” Havoc started suddenly: there was a small tug at his sleeve and he looked down to find Trish handing him his own pen.

“Uh, thanks-” another tug and he was being slowly pulled over to the bookshelf.

“I'm sorry, you're right, I don't know what I was thinking-”

“I bet I do; let's see,” Winry put her hands on her hips. “Bastard Mustang has no idea I'm even in town, I'd better get up there and surprise him before word travels that I'm back at headquarters!” It was a good impression Jean had to admit.

"I'm sorry, but who's the one who ran off and left me _at the train station_ the second we stopped in Rush Valley?" Ed retorted. 

“Well I don't know what you're talking about...” she trailed off, blue eyes meeting wide amber ones as she spotted the little girl staring up at her in wonder. She inhaled sharply and Havoc had a feeling in the pit of his stomach like the moment before something fragile falls and shatters. “General Mustang, is this-”

“Hawkeye's daughter, Mae” Ed cut in quickly, something unspoken passing between him and his wife and Winry pressed a hand to her mouth for a moment, before giving Mae a bright, if a touch watery, smile.

“Hello Mae, I'm Winry! These are Trish, and Nina and Sam... um, somewhere. Sam?”

“Here,” came a voice from under Havoc's vacated desk.

“Clearly I've missed something,” came a dry voice from the doorway. Riza was back, surveying the room. Spotting Sam under the desk she bent slightly and gave him a smile. “Hi Sam, do you remember me?”

“No,” came the sullen voice again.

“Cute kid,” Riza deadpanned at Ed, who shrugged. She deftly plucked Nina from Fuery's arms – for all that he was great with Mae he seemed relieved by this – and walked over to the big desk to give Winry a quick squeeze and direct a bemused glance at Mustang.

“Clearly not my fault,” he said, and as usual Havoc felt like he'd missed about 80% of the conversation. Which, as usual, he probably had.

“Clearly,” she replied, handing him baby Nina, who accepted her with the practiced ease of someone who had held babies too many times to count. “I'll trade you,” she added, scooping Mae off the stack of books and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Mom I'm _busy_ ,” she complained. The Captain remained unmoved.

“I don't know,” the General said. “I think I'm getting the better deal here, this one's fresher. Sorry Mae.”

“Hey,” the small voice protested.

“Come on, you'll get to see everyone later, okay?” Riza told her daughter firmly, heading towards the door. Mae only squirmed for a moment before accepting her fate and they could all hear a faint ' _byeeee sirrrrrr!'_ echoing in the hall. They all ignored Mustang blinking very hard at the baby he held. Breda produced a candy from somewhere and went to work fishing Sam out from under the desk, and Winry went to make introductions.

With Riza and Mae gone, and the others preoccupied with Winry and the kids, Ed sauntered over to the General, who was still seated in his chair, bouncing the baby on his knee fondly.

“When did you get so good with kids?” Ed asked quietly. Mustang looked up in surprise, and handed the baby back somewhat reluctantly.

“They get big too fast,” he said. “But you know that, huh Fullmetal?”

“That's what Winry always says, and then next thing I know we have another mouth to feed,” Ed told him, leaning against the desk. “You seem really fond of Mae. Ever thought about having one of your own?” the General's shoulders went rigid under his uniform coat.

“Maybe someday,” he said flippantly.

“Cut the shit, Mustang,” Ed said, tone suddenly hard, barely loud enough for Havoc to hear from where he stood by the bookshelf with Trish, who was “reading” to him and Fuery from one of the books. “How do you think she's gonna feel about you when all this comes out?”

“I don't know what you're talking-”

“I said cut the shit, okay, that kid looks exactly like you.”

“Look Fullmetal, you don't know what the hell you're talking about,” Roy's furious whisper was so unexpected Havoc had to fight not to look over at them. “This isn't _easy_ but it's better for her than having two ex-military parents whose careers and lives were ruined by a fraternization scandal. I know what you're thinking and I'm nothing like Hohenheim. I'm there for her.” Havoc chanced a look and saw Ed's shoulders visibly relax.

“I know – I mean, I'm sorry. You clearly are. You were there for Al and me too, of course you'd be there for … for Hawkeye's kid.” Mustang shuffled some papers around.

“I've been working with my adjutant for a long time,” he said. “It's only natural I would help her out.”

“Do you get to spend a lot of time with Mae?” Ed asked quietly, and Havoc had to strain to hear the soft reply.

“Not enough.”

-x-

The bachelor party ended up not being so much a party as a standard Friday night. Well, a standard Friday night that they would have had several years ago, plus Fullmetal was there. Havoc was amused to see that Ed turned up his nose when Roy asked if he wanted a scotch, and opted for a beer like the other men.

It was nearing midnight when a peal of laughter made Jean look towards the door, to see a familiar head of bushy brown hair entering the bar. It was Rebecca, followed closely by Riza. Judging from their flushed faces and relaxed expressions, they'd been out for drinks and had decided to crash his bachelor party.

“There they are!” Rebecca crowed, and danced over to twine her arms around Havoc's neck.

“And that's my cue to go,” Ed told the room at large, draining his glass and catching the bartender's attention. “It's getting late and Winry's expecting me. Hey, thanks, you can put those on his tab,” this was directed at the bartender, with a jerk of his thumb towards Mustang to indicate whose tab he meant exactly.

“Hey wait a minute, I'm not-”

“Thanks again Colonel, see ya,” and with that he was gone, Riza sliding in to take his seat between Roy and Breda.

“That's General to y- ah he's gone.”

“I'm pretty sure the point of a Bachelor party is to celebrate, um, being apart?” Jean said to Rebecca, who was currently playing with his hair. Her own hair was wind-tousled and her cheeks were flushed prettily and he decided that time apart wasn't actually worth observing, anyway.

“Well after the last round of shots she decided that she missed you and the party was over,” Riza said with a shrug, and Havoc noticed that the scotch that had been sitting in front of the General was now in Riza's hand. She at first glance seemed to be holding it together better than Rebecca but her eyes were a little too bright and her shoulder a little too close to Mustang's. He didn't seem to mind, actually pretending to stretch and setting his arm along the backs of both of their chairs. Havoc looked around the bar quickly but didn't see anyone but civilians. Most military preferred a slightly nicer bar that was closer to work. He caught Breda's eye and gave a small nod towards their superior officers. They weren't on Hawkeye and Mustang levels of nonverbal communication but they had the basics down. Breda raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his beer.

“Who's watching Mae, Riza?” Breda wanted to know, regarding the Captain and Brigadier General curiously.

“She's with Gracia,” Riza said, taking another sip of scotch, before sitting up straight and deliberately setting the glass down as though she'd just remembered something. “Hayate is too, actually, since she hates going anywhere without him. So I guess I'm on my own tonight,” she said, and Havoc made a mental note that Hawkeye was not, under any circumstances, ever allowed to drink while on an undercover mission. She got _sloppy_. Mustang seemed to be having a hard time catching on which made Jean more than a little annoyed– years of stealing Havoc's girlfriends and now he can't be bothered to pay _attention-_

“You'd better have one of us walk you home then,” Havoc said casually.

“Guys, I think the Captain is way more able to take care of herself than any of us,” Fuery said, rightly. Jean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So now he had _two_ clueless coworkers and one who was worse at acting than her four-year-old daughter.

“Safety in numbers,” he intoned. “And Becca's sure not walking her home.”

“My butt is a deadly weapon,” Rebecca muttered into his shoulder, seemingly half-asleep despite the noise of the bar. Also an excellent point, he had to admit.

“Well I suppose,” Roy began, “as her superior officer I can make sure the Captain gets home safe.” _Fucking finally_ , Havoc thought to himself.

“That seems unnecessary, sir, but if you insist,” Riza told him, however her eyes were saying something else entirely. Havoc looked away, thinking that maybe that was a conversation he didn't actually want to be a part of.

“I'll go pay my tab then,” he said as Riza gave a huge, fake yawn. Within minutes they were strolling out of the bar, Mustang's hand at the small of Hawkeye's back. Purely for balance, Havoc thought snidely. Breda took a large swig of his beer.

“Why did we facilitate that?” he asked, as Fuery stared out the door after them.

“Because we're optimists?” Jean replied, finishing his own drink.

“Philanthropists,” Breda corrected him. “Trying to keep a little girl from growing up in a broken home.” There was a sudden gasp from Fuery.

“They're _together_ together, aren't they?”

It wasn't really his fault he couldn't hold his liquor but this still earned him groans from the other three. A beat, and then:

“I mean, of course not,” Rebecca said, half-muffled by Jean's shirt, which felt distinctly warm, like she'd been talking directly into the fabric.

“Strictly professional,” Breda agreed.

“Eh I don't know,” Havoc said, looking out the open door where he could faintly see the two still walking down the street, now unmistakably hand in hand. “I think those two crazy kids will work it out someday.”

“You're drunk,” Rebecca slurred, tugging at his sleeve. “Come on, let's go home and I'll let you make me some toast.”

-x-

As it happened, married life was so similar to unmarried life it was virtually impossible to tell the difference. It was nearing 11pm on a Tuesday and Jean's blushing bride was yawning widely next to him, hair akimbo and face shiny with something she kept in a small glass pot by the bathroom sink that was, in his opinion, exorbitantly expensive when one considered the amount that was actually in the container. The only real difference, he mused, was that the expensive face cream was now half his.

“Stop that,” she instructed, and yawned again.

“What?' he asked, blinking. He just realized he'd been completely ignoring the book in front of him.

“Staring at me, it's creepy. I know I'm radiant but seriously, I can get you a picture so you stop bugging me while I'm trying to read.”

“But the picture would lack your natural charm,” he said, grinning, setting the open book down on his lap. They were propped up side by side in bed, him with a fairly dry history book he was trying to get through just to say he had, and her with a trashy periodical she was genuinely enjoying.

“True,” she agreed.

“And a picture wouldn't smell as nice,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on her jaw, careful to avoid the parts of her face coated in the excretions of some-bug-or-other, he tried not to think too much about it.

“Also very true,” she purred, setting her magazine down on her lap and turning her face towards his. He brushed his lips lightly against hers, shifting to turn his body inwards, one hand running through her hair. God he loved her hair. Once a year she threatened to cut it all off because it was so unmanageable but that was precisely what he loved about it. He ducked his head to trail kisses along her shoulder as she tossed the magazine aside.

The doorbell rang.

“Is there even the smallest chance that's not incredibly important?” He asked, mouth still pressed to her skin. She sighed and it was a moment before she replied, sounding as though it was taking great force of will to get the words out.

“No, there isn't,” she muttered, irritated. “Tell you what, if it's my best friend, I owe you a favor and if it's yours, you owe me one.” And with that she slid out of bed, heading for the door, leaving Havoc dazed and blinking.

“Wait, who's my best friend?” he asked as she headed out of the room. In response she turned and cocked an eyebrow before turning back around and marching towards the door. He guessed she had a point; you didn't make a guy your best man for no reason. But if it was Roy at the door, he swore to himself, he'd make sure he paid for it in paperwork.

He meandered out to the front room after his wife, tugging on a t-shirt, to find the answer to their bet sitting in her arms. Mae was dressed for bed, in a bright purple onesie, a stuffed bear in her arms. She was also yawning and from the looks of it had been plucked out of her crib.

“I'm so sorry to do this,” Riza was saying. She was in uniform, and Jean wondered for a moment why he hadn't gotten a call if they were on a case. But _she_ was on a case; he wasn't. He'd actually been loaned out, in a sense, to a general currently without a sharpshooter, and while he was still technically under Mustang's command, he wasn't in the office this week. “Fuery just got the intel; it's probably going to be an all-night stakeout I'm afraid. If I'm not done in the morning you can drop her off at the military childcare; they have both your names.” Becca's arms were full of toddler so Havoc relieved Riza of the massive duffel bag.

“Anytime,” Becca said, stroking Mae's small black pigtails. “We love our niece don't we?”

“Yeah of course,” Jean replied.

“Thank you so much, I'll call in the morning if I can,” and like that she was gone, racing off into the night towards her parked car which, Havoc noted, didn't appear to be empty. He set the bag down and looked at his wife, who yawned hugely, seeming entirely unbothered.

“Well I'm going to bed, wake me if you set something on fire. Or don't, whatever.”

“Wait, aren't you going to help-”

“Nu-uh, I'm calling in my favor early. Sweet dreams.” She headed down the hall and he realized she was serious.

“What do you mean favor, it was your best friend! You lost!” His indignant squawking was causing Mae to wake up further, and he swayed slightly in place as a countermeasure.

“Nope,” Rebecca said triumphantly, pointing at Mae, who was now gazing wide-eyed between the two of them. “It was yours.” And with that she vanished, leaving Havoc holding the little girl, who was already squirming to get down. He adjusted his grip so he was holding her under one arm and she giggled.

“Uncle Havoc!”

“Guess it's just you and me, kid. Now, what story do you want to hear before bed?”

“The stabbing lady,” she replied instantly, naming a _very_ watered-down version of the time Havoc had been paralyzed by a homunculus in the Fifth Laboratory. Ironic because he had faced death again when Riza caught wind he'd told that story to her toddler. In his defense it had been very late and they were out of children's books.

“The stabbing lady it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

“I'm bored.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Havoc deadpanned, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. It was a little after three in the morning and they were situated outside Rebecca's hospital room. It was a fairly unconventional birth plan, with he and Riza taking it in turns to sit with Rebecca, ostensibly so they each could rest but realistically so they could switch out before she got too annoyed with either of them. Their five year old, Marcus, was at Mustang's for the night, but wherever Riza went her shadow was sure to follow. And her shadow happened to be twelve and _mouthy_.

“Did I take this long to be born?” Mae wanted to know, yawning hugely. She had, of course, been given the choice to stay home but true to form she wanted to be where the action was. Havoc loved the kid to death but he'd forgotten how abysmally obnoxious tweens could be. A while back he'd joked to Mustang that Mae was now the same age that Edward Elric has been when he'd been recruited into the military. Far from finding this funny, the General had gone white as a sheet and spent half an hour locked in his office on the phone with his head in his hands and Riza glaring daggers at Jean.

It had not been a pleasant afternoon.

“No idea,” he said. “I mean, I wasn't there. I know you also decided to show up sometime after midnight and your Aunt Rebecca was up all night waiting for you, so you definitely owe her one.”

“What about-” she began, sitting straighter in her chair, before pausing as though thinking through what she was about to say. “Was anyone else there apart from Aunt Becca?”

He grinned tiredly. “Oh I think someone else might have showed up,” he said, a hand on his chin. “What was that guy's name? Troy?”

“Ha ha.”

“I think you maybe met him once or twice. Dark-haired fellow, lots of stars on his jacket? Thinks you're cool for some reason?”

 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

They were quiet for a moment under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Havoc knew well that hospitals were places apart from time; the lights and people were unchanging. Well, mostly unchanging, he thought, as he spied Breda walking up the hall juggling three styrofoam cups.

“I told you to stay home,” Jean said, accepting the cup which turned out to be full of coffee.

“Yeah well,” Breda said with a shrug. “There was nothing good on the radio.” He handed a cup to Mae, who sniffed it suspiciously. “Black coffee's your drink, right?”

“Yeah but hot chocolate is fine too,” Mae told him, taking a sip. “Uncle Breda were you there when I was born?” Breda shook his head no, settling into a chair on her other side.

“Nah we missed the action. I got to see you a little while after though, you were all pink and tiny and cute. I wonder what happened?” Mae made a face at him, and he nudged her with an elbow playfully. She wasn’t _spoiled_ exactly - Hawkeye would never let that happen - but she had grown up with an abundance of Uncles who were inclined to indulge her every whim until such a time as they’d been sat down by their commanding officer and ordered to desist. (Mae’s Aunt Becca flatly refused a similar order.) 

Mustang, for all that he clearly loved the little girl, could be surprisingly stern when he had to, a surprising aspect of their odd arrangement that Jean found made him respect the man even more. It was easy to be a kid’s pal, to take them to the zoo and buy them gifts. It was harder to make them do their homework, or their chores, or  eat their vegetables.

“Uncle Breda was almost as afraid of you as he is of dogs,” Havoc confided. “Remember when we sat you down with a pillow and made you hold her?”

“One of the more terrifying experiences of my life, and I helped stage a coup,” Haymans remarked. “You _hated_ me, wouldn't stop screaming until Havoc here took you back. Same thing with Fuery. I think babies can smell fear or something.”

“Maybe you just took some getting used to,” Mae remarked primly, setting her cup down and stretching. The door opened and a tired-looking Riza emerged, amid what sounded like Rebecca threatening the doctor with surprising vigor and creativity for a woman who had been in labor for something like six hours already.

“You're up, Jean,” Hawkeye told him, hauling him to his feet before he had the chance to process what she meant. “I think it's finally time for the big event.” he froze, unbelieving that their long wait was about to pay off and he was about to become a father for the second time. Hawkeye saw his dazed expression and chuckled softly. 

“It helps if you open the door,” Mae supplied helpfully, reaching over to pluck the coffee from his hands before he spilled it.

“Can it, squirt,” he said without any real venom, and walked past Riza into the delivery room.

Rebecca looked beautiful: even sweaty and frizzy and tired as she was, Jean didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so radiant. Of course she was also screaming a string of curses so apart from being beautiful she was also _terrifying_. Like a vengeful goddess or something, he mused. She caught him looking and beckoned him over with the hand not clutching one of the nurses’ arms. 

“JEAN HAVOC STOP STARING AT ME AND GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR FING-AAAGH!!” 

He did as he was told, offering a hand that she clung to painfully. 

“You’re doing so well,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. 

“I,” she panted, “am doing a FANTASTIC job.” 

“That’s what I meant to say,” he told her. “Can’t be long now right?” He directed this at the doctor, though Rebecca’s ensuing yell of expletives let him know she’d taken it personally. 

“All right, Rebecca,” the nurse said after a glance under the sheet that covered her. “It’s time to push.” Havoc felt himself go clammy at the thought, and he brushed a hand across Rebecca’s forehead tenderly. 

“You,” he told her, “Are the best baby-haver in history. Nobody pops em out like you can. You’re crushing it.” She grinned wearily, and despite her myriad of threats he could see the genuine affection in her eyes as she squeezed his hand more gently this time.  

“This kind of blind adoration is exactly why I keep you around. Now don’t you dare look away, if I have to witness this then so do you.”

It was a boy. 

-x-

“Good boy, Taisa! Here, you throw it this time, Mae, you can throw further than I can.” The bushy-haired boy handed the frisbee to the dark-haired girl, who turned, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion.

Jean watched them fondly. He’d been out with Marcus, since Riza and Rebecca had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons, and Becca had brought the baby. They’d gotten ice cream and were walking through the park when they’d run into Mustang and Mae, who coincidentally _also_ had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons. He’d just assumed she tagged along with her mom and Becca on those occasions but he had to admit it was the perfect opportunity for Mustang to have some quality time with his bodyguard’s kid. It had been Marcus to point them out first, and Havoc had looked to see the General seated on a park bench, chuckling at normally reserved Mae animatedly telling a story that seemed to involve an explosion. 

Seeing them side by side really highlighted the passing of time; he remembered when Mae was seven and would play in this same park with Black Hayate, before he passed on to Good Boy Heaven. Mae and Riza had both been inconsolable, and the General had made sure that Hayate was promoted two ranks posthumously and given a proper sendoff befitting his station. Now Mae was fourteen, long-limbed and getting taller almost by the minute.

“I can't believe how big they're getting,” Havoc remarked, watching Mae and Marcus take turns throwing the frisbee for Taisa, one of the late great Black Hayate’s children. 

“Do you know she came to me the other day and asked me how to get a boy in her class to notice her?” Roy said, pushing his hair off his face in an exasperated gesture while Havoc barked out a laugh.

“Oh man, I'm guessing you weren't ready for _that_ kind of a talk, huh boss?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So what did you tell her?” Now he thought about it, Jean realized that even in his capacity as favorite uncle (or so he liked to believe) _he_ wasn't ready for Mae to start dating either. She’d always been the bookish type, on the quiet side with people she didn’t know well. He had just assumed they wouldn’t have to worry about boys for years yet. Mustang shrugged.

“I was so surprised I just told her to be herself and that any boy who didn't notice her wasn't worth her time.”

“Well that seems like solid advice to me,” Jean told him. A little boring, but he doubted he’d have been able to come up with anything better when put on the spot like that. 

“I'm glad _you_ think so; Mae rolled her eyes and said never mind, she'd just go look through Aunt Becca's magazines for actual advice and thanks for nothing,” Roy said bitterly, though he was clearly amused.

Now that he thought about it, Havoc could recall a day last week when Mae had come over and talked to her aunt in hushed tones. At a certain point there had been a peal of laughter and his wife crowing that _finally_ a Hawkeye wanted to look through trashy periodicals with her. He had avoided the kitchen after that and so didn’t hear anything else. 

“Ouch. Did you tell Hawkeye?” Roy looked at him in surprise.

“Well no, Mae asked me not to.”

“So you're more afraid of the wrath of a teenage girl than the wrath of Riza Hawkeye, your trusted adjutant and infamous sharpshooter,” he said flatly. “Interesting perspective.”

“It's not like that. If I want Mae to continue trusting me, I need to prove myself worthy of that trust. She should be able to come to me with questions, or things she might not want to talk to her mother about. The Captain understands this.” _Of course_ , Havoc thought. As usual, he was three steps and a nonverbal conversation behind Mustang and Hawkeye. They would have talked about this, probably years ago – probably before Mae herself was even able to talk. They were as much of one mind about Mae's upbringing as they were about anything else.

“Sounds like solid reasoning to me.”

“Besides, if I told Hawkeye there was a boy at school not giving her daughter the time of day you know she’d find a way to show up and ‘accidentally’ let slip how many guns she keeps on her person,” he said cheerfully and Havoc had to admit that he was probably not all that far from the truth.

-x-

The office was filled with the sound of last minute paperwork being gathered up, and Mae's soft begging at the General's desk. It was almost quitting time on a Friday and Hawkeye was delivering some documents while her daughter did her best to cajole her mother's senior officer.

“Please, _please_ please please,

“I can't sign this; I'm not your legal guardian,” Mustang deadpanned, glancing at the final paper she had placed on his desk.

“But you're practically the most important man in Amestris, after the Fuhrer,” Mae reasoned, trying to hand him a pen as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Go try this on him, then: you'll probably have better luck.” Mae rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“He'll make me play him for it and I can never beat him.”

“Well, I can't help you either. Have you even asked your mother?” the General asked with a shrug.

“You know she'll never say yes, she always changes the subject when I ask about alchemy. It's just a short term course and I'm doing really well in school this year,” she explained. “I thought you'd understand.” This child of the military really was getting to be a master manipulator, Havoc thought, watching as she batted large amber eyes at Mustang. Sure she lacked subtlety but she knew how to play Roy like a fiddle. She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it down for her.

“Look Mae,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I know you might think that alchemy is a glamorous profession, but it's not easy. It's a lot of hard work. Most alchemists aren't up to the task of working for the state and there's not much money without government funding.” This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Mae's eyes flashed and she squared her shoulders.

“I know I'm not some kind of prodigy like you or Uncle Ed but I don't want to do anything flashy. I want to go to Xing and study with Uncle Al and Aunt May,” she explained. “I've been reading through some of your books and medical alchemy is really cool.”

“When the hell did you read any of my books?” he demanded, and she shrugged, looking slightly guilty.

“Sometimes I borrow them. I always bring them back though. I've been looking through them for years, and I've done a few transmutations. Little ones,” she admitted. Mustang leaned his chin on his hand lazily, regarding Mae as he might look at a fascinating equation.

“Have you? That's actually pretty advanced, you know.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting praise. “Really?”

“You must have an aptitude for it.”

“I know,” she looked around before lowering her voice. “I know mom's father was an alchemist. I think that's maybe why she doesn't want me learning it.”

“Could be,” he said in his most bland, I-know-nothing-whatsoever-about-this-matter voice.

“But I thought you might understand why... why I'm so interested in it.”

“I can't sign the permission slip for you,” he repeated. “Do you know what would happen to me if your mom found out? Terrible things, unspeakable things. Remember the time I got you roller skates before she thought you were ready?” Havoc winced – he was sure none of them would ever forget the roller skate incident.

“Will you – will you talk to her then?”

“And what makes you think that would help?” Mae rolled her eyes.

“She listens to you, Sir. She might not act like it but you should hear her sometimes, it's all “General this” and “General that”, I think she really respects your opinion.” Flattery would get her everywhere, it seemed, as Mustang sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, as Major Hawkeye reentered the room.

“Follow my lead,” he muttered, and she nodded. “Evening Major, what do you have planned on this beautiful Friday night?” Riza lifted an eyebrow at his flowery tone, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Well it’s Mae’s turn to cook, so I thought I might do some reading,” she answered lightly. 

“Oh that's unfortunate, you see I was planning on sweeping her off her feet for a night on the town. Since you seem to be delighted by the prospect of not cooking I _suppose_ you could join us, if that's all right with you of course madam,” this was directed at Mae, who pretended to consider. Havoc started slowly gathering his things, interested to see how this would play out.

“I guess she can come, if she promises not to talk too much.”

“Yes of course, leave those chatterbox tendencies at home and we've got a deal,” Roy said, gazing at Riza evenly over his hands, steepled before him on the desk.

“I think I can agree to that,” Riza said, with another of her barely perceivable smiles that nonetheless seemed to light up her whole face.

“Great,” the General said. “It's a date.”

“Oh shoot!” Mae exclaimed, snatching up her school book - without the form, which she swept into the General's lap seemingly by accident. “I forgot I told Aunt Rebecca I would babysit for her tonight! Oh how terrible, I suppose you'll have to just go without me.” Jean thought that should he want to, he could have knocked Roy over with a feather, while Riza just gave her daughter a small wave, face almost suspiciously bland.

“Well if you promised. We'll miss you though.”

“You'll manage. By mom, bye Sir,” Mae chirped, turning to fall into step with Havoc, who had paused after donning his jacket.

“You realize we're not actually going anywhere,” he said quietly as she took one of his massive binders filled with cases he needed to review before Monday without being asked.

“Keep walking, Uncle Havoc,” she hissed.

“What's in it for me?”

“Free babysitting for a month.”

“Two.”

“One and I'll throw in an overnight trip.”

“Deal,” he said. They'd been wanting to take a weekend off to see Falman in Briggs for a while. “And well played,” he added with a nod.

“Thank you, I learn from the best. What's for dinner?” Hardened con artist and all, she was still a teenager who was somehow constantly hungry. He reached out and ruffled her shoulder length black hair and she responded by ducking away from him and smoothing it back down with a motion that he’d seen his superior officer make a million times. 

-x-

_BANG BANG BANG_

Havoc almost jumped out of his seat at the knocking at the door. It was sometime after eight and dark outside. He picked up his sidearm off the mantle and inched towards the door carefully, before snatching the handle and wrenching it open. Springing back, he brought the gun up and then back down almost as quickly when he saw who it was. Mae Hawkeye, face red and wet with tears, was standing on his doorstep with wide eyes on his gun.

“You scared me,” he explained, dropping his weapon and clicking the safety back on. “What's up, kiddo? Everything ok?” Everything was clearly not okay but everything he knew about teenagers and this teenager in particularly told him to tread lightly. She looked like a frightened animal, and he kept his distance lest she bolt.

“Hey,” she sniffed, looking around him into the empty living room. “Is Aunt Rebecca here?” Great, he thought, girl stuff. Perfect. This was much better than the quiet hour alone with a book and a scotch he'd been anticipating. He poured the scotch anyway, thinking he'd need it.

“She took the boys for ice cream,” he said. “Can, uh, can I make you some tea?” Mae swept by him, dropping a suspiciously large bag on the floor near the coat rack with a _thunk_. Sounded like a couple changes of clothes and about five books, he estimated. This was serious.

“Sure,” she said, sinking into one of the armchairs and putting her head in her hands. Jean closed the door and headed to the kitchen to switch the kettle on, and by the time he came back she was sitting upright, having dried her face and smoothed her hair back. She looked young, and she was wearing an expression he knew all too well.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, and she gave him a withering stare that was ironically all Hawkeye, considering what she was probably mad about.

“I can't,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “I mean, I just, I had a fight with mom and I needed to get out.”

“Right,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. “Let me guess, girl stuff?” Mae snorted.

“You couldn't even begin to imagine.”

“Right, of course not,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When did she get so _needlessly dramatic_? She certainly didn't get that particular trait from her mother.

She sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed. He sat next to her and playfully bumped her elbow with one of his.

“Hey come on, you guys usually get along great. Whatever you were fighting about can’t have been that bad.”

“Oh yes it can,” Mae hissed. 

“Did she return a book to the library you weren’t finished with yet?” He asked, recalling the source of a previous rift. Mae had a habit of not using bookmarks, claiming to always remember her page, and Riza had a habit of fastidiously following rules, such as the rule that library books could only be borrowed for a fortnight at a time. It was surprising the mistake didn’t happen more often, when you thought about it. 

“She’s a liar,” Mae said softly and Havoc blinked at this. Riza Hawkeye was honest to the point of (always tactful) bluntness at times. Sure she could keep a secret when she had to but usually only … when she had to… 

He kept his expression carefully neutral. 

“It’s not my business,” he told her, hoping this would discourage her from fully revealing the cause of their argument, “But if you caught her in a fib it was probably for good reason.” 

“It wasn’t a fib, she’s been lying to me since I was born,” Mae spat bitterly. “And I gave her the chance to finally come clean but she just kept up the lie, like I’m _stupid_ —“

“No one could ever accuse you of being stupid,” he told her. And it was true, she had taken to her alchemy lessons like a fish to water. At fifteen she was at the top of her class and rapidly outpacing the curriculum available. He’d once heard Mustang quietly say to Hawkeye that he’d been looking into finding a private tutor in Central, but he had been immediately shut down by one of her withering stares that seemed to speak volumes to Roy. Havoc couldn’t see why - the girl was a natural, let her do the thing she was clearly great at. “You know how protective your mom can be. Maybe this lie, that I have no knowledge of and is not my business, was for your own good when you were younger. She doesn’t realize how fast you’ve grown up.” 

“She still should tell me the truth.” 

“You know, your mom’s a person too,” he told her gently, well aware that he was divulging one of the biggest secrets of parentkind. “Have you considered that maybe, uh, whatever it is, is a sensitive topic for her too? It’s probably not a fun secret to keep. I bet you she wishes she doesn’t have to.”

Mae scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. 

“Thank you, Uncle Havoc. I’m gonna go wash my face.” She headed off down the hall and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that playing dumb had worked. He reached for his scotch and took a long drink. 

Another knock, and Havoc set down his glass in annoyance, before opening the door. It was Riza, of course, looking world-weary and almost like she'd been crying. Jean had known Riza for, geez, at least twenty years now. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry.

“Hey. Is my daughter here?”

Wordlessly, Havoc opened the door and she walked past him, setting her purse on the coffee table heavily. The tea kettle started to sing in the kitchen and he hastened to take if off the heat, bringing Riza a cup of chamomile without asking. 

“Just wait until yours are teenagers,” she said wryly, accepting the mug from him.

“Well when they are, and they run out during an argument, I'll know to go look for them at your place,” he said, and found that despite his joking tone he meant it. This earned him a sad little smile.

“It'll be nice to be the fun aunt for once,” she said softly. “People always say parenting is hard, but no one ever tells you it can be so heartbreaking.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn't mean that. Not exactly.”

“I know what you mean,” Havoc assured her. He _hated_ having arguments with his kids, even if it was just little stuff right now, like whether or not one should jump on the bed. Mae hadn't come out with it, but he could guess what they'd been fighting about.

“I'm the one who ran out,” she confessed. Havoc inched closer to the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not now, but this morning. I was going in to work early and she kept asking me about – well it doesn't matter what. I owe her an answer but I brushed her off.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's ...complicated,” Jean said delicately. Her hand came up briefly to rest on his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” came a small voice from the hallway. It was of course Mae, face freshly scrubbed, looking remorseful, yet with a familiar glint of determination in her eyes. “Let's go home,” she said. Riza took a deep breath, and stood up.

“Good idea.”

He’d thought about using Rebecca as a go between to find out the result of this argument, but in the end decided against it. As he’d told Mae, it really wasn’t his business, even though he was desperately curious to find out whether she’d been told of her true parentage. But as it happened, there was no espionage necessary; Hawkeye approached him the next day while he was making coffee in the office. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For whatever you said to Mae about me.” 

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said. “I just ah, told her that whatever it was, the situation isn’t ideal for you either.”

“She said that whenever I was ready to … discuss the subject we were arguing over, she would like to hear it.” Riza shrugged. “Sometimes being a parent is a wretch, but then they do something mature and it was all worth it.” 

“She’s a great kid,” Jean told Riza solemnly. “You did a good job there.” She smiled a little sadly and he thought he saw her eyes flick to the front of the room, just for a second.

“Oh, you know,” she said softly. “It takes a village.”

-x-

With Grumman retiring and General Mustang moving into his old office, their team was all but disbanded. It meant promotions and pay raises all around, of course, and Havoc was pleased to finally be given his own unit, but this last afternoon lazily packing up the office was bittersweet. He, Breda, and Fuery lingered, chatting and arguing over pens, while Roy finished some paperwork. Colonel Hawkeye had been conspicuously absent, a fact none of them had mentioned due to the stormclouds that had immediately gathered over the Flame Alchemist’s head when one of the subordinates had asked.

The door flew open, and sixteen-year-old Mae stormed in and directly up to the large desk, the spitting image of her mother in a rage. Roy looked up, did a double take, and sighed.

“Oh hell,” he began. “Mae-”

“Don’t you _even-”_ she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You _fired_ my _mother_ \- how could you _possibly-”_

Jean exchanged panicked glances with Breda and Fuery. This was a situation he could never have foreseen - even in his paperwork-induced stress dreams _he_ was the one being fired, never Hawkeye. He couldn’t say he really blamed Mae for being upset; he personally was going to be having a word with his superior officer the moment the kid left, insubordination be damned. Fire Hawkeye? Had the General lost his _mind_ , he wouldn’t last two weeks without her watching his back! Mustang was massaging his temples as though he felt a headache coming on.

“She shouldn’t be telling you that kind of thing,” he muttered, which was of course the wrong thing to say.

“She didn’t tell me anything, I know what termination paperwork is, _and_ I know your signature!”

Havoc found himself in the unique position of both wanting to stay and see the pending Fuhrer of Amestris be torn a new one by a teenaged girl and simultaneously wanting to be _nowhere_ _near_ the impending firestorm that was undoubtedly going to take place. From Fuery and Breda’s shell-shocked expressions they were also frozen to where they stood.

“You know believe it or not I do have my reasons,” the General said, voice quiet. “And I _am_ planning to enlighten you, _despite the fact that I do not have to_ , but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Oh save it,” Mae snapped, though the shaking in her voice told Jean that she was close to tears. He had no idea how Roy was still staring at her levely; he would have crumbled if she’d used that tone on him. “You’re just a snake - all this time you’ve been pretending to care about us but now you’re getting promoted you’re suddenly too _good-”_

Behind the desk, Mustang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” he said carefully.

“Well then _tell me!”_ She demanded, fists clenched at her side. None of them had ever seen her this upset with Roy before, and Havoc suddenly recalled Mustang, holding a baby while Edward Elric angrily asked him what Mae would think of him when she was older. He had never given it a second thought, assuming that Mae’s affection for the General meant that she didn’t harbor any resentment. 

The tears in her eyes told him he’d been wrong. 

From across the room Havoc noticed a few MPs peering into the office, looking for the source of the yelling, and he locked eyes with Fuery, who casually picked up one of his boxes and headed for the door, closing it behind him. Neither of the two at the desk seemed to notice.

“Look,” he said, changing tacks, “I’m almost done here, go wait outside and I’ll-”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Mae hissed, “You’re not my father, _remember_?” The dam broke. She dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Roy reached out in what seemed to be an automatic gesture, pulling her into a hug, rubbing small circles into her back while she cried on his epaulettes. When she finally pulled away, sniffling, he handed her a handkerchief and regarded her seriously.

“There’s a set of rules the military has in place,” he began, and Havoc and Breda were suddenly both very busy placing stacks of documents and books into the boxes, “that forbids romantic relationships between officers.”

“Oh,” was all Mae said.

“If evidence of fraternization is discovered, then depending on the rank of the officers involved and the seriousness of the infraction, then at the very least those officers don’t remain stationed in the same city. At worst they could be court-martialed.” 

“I didn’t think-“ 

“I meant to discuss this with you,” he told her, rifling around in his desk. “Clearly I didn’t think you would find out when you did.” Whatever he’d pulled out of his desk elicited a gasp from Mae, and her whole demeanor suddenly shifted. Havoc was too busy minding his own business to catch a glimpse of the object, but he had a guess at what it could be, and why it meant Hawkeye couldn’t continue to work in the military. 

“You know most people would start by asking someone on a date first,” Mae told him shakily. “How do you even know if she likes you?” she teased. Mustang had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

“I think she does. I could be wrong.”

Mae had taken the small box and was turning it over in her hands. “She’s pretty upset right now. Even if she didn’t tell me why, I could tell she was mad.”

“I jumped the gun,” he explained. “I was supposed to wait until after the inauguration. She’ll forgive me though. Will you?” Havoc fought the strong urge to run out of the large office, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or do anything else to break the spell of the moment. He just continued to crouch, rifling aimlessly through the open drawer of his desk. Roy was clearly not asking for forgiveness for what had happened today and Mae, ever the clever one, could tell. It was a tense few moments before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, choking back a sob.

“Of course,” she murmured, and pulled away with a grin. “You know if mom says yes then you’ll be my stepfather.”

There was a long moment where Havoc realized he’d somehow gotten dust in his eye and it was wildly uncomfortable. 

“No,” Roy said, considering. “I’ll be your dad.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! Ok but not remotely because I have a prequel and sequel in the works. Feel free to find me on tumblr at catgluue.tumblr.com and slide into my DMs with comments, concerns, prompts, enthusiasm, whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based off a Tumblr post I saw a while back that I've been unable to find since. It was a what-if headcanon about how Roy and Riza would handle an unplanned pregnancy. I thought the idea was interesting and, clearly, ran with it. Set a few years after the Promised Day.


End file.
